It's time for a swap! (roomsswap) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-06-08 19:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | *narrative, plot: swap |
Who: Selina
What: Reveal - Swap plot
The night before could have been a dream. Could have been. For anyone else, there would be no other way to justify becoming someone else for the evening. Becoming Catwoman. Sitting next to someone who was and wasn't Wonder Woman and talking for most of the night. There had been the man at the memory shop as well, but he could have made sense, if it wasn't for the location or topic of conversation.
But she knew better. She knew that there were other ways that all of those things could happen. Either in her own mind, or outside of it.
At least she hadn't gotten hurt. She hadn't hurt anyone else. She hadn't used someone else's body to force herself on others. It could have been so much worse, and it wasn't. So she allowed herself to wake up slowly, savoring it as she kept her eyes closed.
There were birds chirping outside the window. She could feel sun on her face, and every so often, a breeze meandered its way in. It smelled like warm things, growing things, things that she hadn't smelled in a very long time. Some that she was pretty certain she'd never smelled before.
It didn't smell like closed-up highrises with people that came in to clean everything and leave her groceries.
It didn't smell like tea or raspberries or leather coats and hats made out of every and any thing.
It didn't smell like dusty Las Vegas or humid Georgia. The closest she could compare it to was "home" - where she'd grown up. But that wasn't quite it either.
It smelled... clean. Like there wasn't a city for miles. And as she listened, the chirp of birds was joined by other sounds. Horse hooves. People passing by and doing things that sounded like working. And talking - though the more she tried to focus on their words, the more she realized that she couldn't understand them.
For a moment, the breeze stopped and another scent made itself known close at hand - copper. She frowned at that, as it made even less sense than everything else, and with a sigh, she finally opened her eyes to find out what was going on.
The room was wrong. Sunlight poured in, warm and golden even though it was morning. There was no buzz of electricity or any glow of screen or artificial light. She frowned, sitting up, and as she did, the linen sheet that had been wrapped around her fell away. And she looked down at herself.
Red.
Red in blue, and she wasn't even certain how that could be - wouldn't it be purple? Who would know. Someone must know how to make purple. She was certain it was red and blue. But this time red and blue made black of the blue and holes that showed white through them - four, one two three four, all in a row - white and red. More red. Rusty red. On her dress on her skin on the sheet on her hands in the curl of hair that had fallen forward so much red.
She knew someone that didn't like red.
She knew why.
She knew, she knew.
She knew what it meant, all the red, the four holes in her dress, and there must be more in her skin, she knew.
It happened before. They said it hadn't, but it happened before and now
again
All that red had to come from somewhere, had to come from her.
In a place where she didn't understand the words through her window.
Where sunlight was golden.
Where she was warm.
And where things smelled clean and green on the breeze
when she wasn't choked by red.
There was a book under her hand.
She picked it up.
Iris hadn't expected death to look like this.